Wrap-up

I was hoping to write more after coming back, but the truth is, having found my friends and family again, I don’t feel the need to write here anymore … except one last time. Just to wrap things up.  So here we go.

French Guiana was not easy. And I was also not the easiest person with whom to work. But I would never change that experience with anything in the world. I have discovered so much about myself, about others, and about ties that unite seemingly different peoples into one family. I’ve seen the power of words, of the Word, and of wordless communication. I’ve seen the devastating effects of illiteracy, and shared the joy of my friends when they discovered that, after months of work, they could string together syllables. I’ve experienced the freedom of washing and bathing in a small creek under the stars, and playing in a dusty field with children until dusk. Sang out loud and not cared if we were in tune or not. Encouraged girls and women that they do have a place in a world dominated by men. Shared prayers for healing, protection, mourning, and growth.
And, for a year … I felt useful.

This is a quote from a letter I wrote to some members of the Local Spiritual Assembly of Ottawa. I find it wraps-up my feelings quite well.

I am now a Master’s student at Université de Montréal, studying film scoring composition. It’s very exciting, and very heavy as far as course load goes (think 3 short videos to score within the span of 6 days, each having between 24h-48h to write them).  Here’s an example:

I have also been reunited with my good violin. He and I have had quite a few adventures already. I have stepped on a stage for the first time today since my return. I’d forgotten how much I love it. Thankfully, I haven’t lost too much of my technique, though my fingers are distinctively slower.

I now live in Montréal in a beautiful large apartment, high ceilings, wooden floors – my room is so big it could fit all of the family at PK-10 where I would stay during the weekends (this is still awkward for me …). Food is cheap. My new roommate is another fiddler – and we are currently fiddling together, and building a studio in our apartment, as she will be also studying in my program in January. We have wonderful neighbours, and there is a small sense of community in this building. There are many trees – we practically live on the top of Mount Royal and can see the whole city from our roof top (because we have access to a rooftop!).

Some have asked me if I had some sort of culture shock coming back: many white people, big cities, different values, different levels of honesty …. I’ve got to say: culture shock has been at minimal level (especially when you consider I flew directly from French Guiana to New York City). I had braced myself for things to have changed back home. And things have. And I was fine with it. (Again, though – I’m still in awe with the luck we had finding this apartment, getting into the film program, and how everything is just so … easy … except when it comes to paperwork.)

I have also somehow transformed into a more initiative, calmer, and flexible person. Not only people tell me – I feel it. I rarely feel rushed or stressed anymore. I spend less – I feel less like I HAVE to buy this and that and ooo that too … Of course I’m still extremely far from perfect, and will always be … but these are good changes.

I have also officially switched from coffee to tea, as tea was more available and affordable than coffee back at the Walker’s house. This may contribute to me being calmer …

I find myself being asked so many times the following: “SO! You were gone in South America! How was it?!?” … and not being able to answer (this, Sarah Windle has also experienced). So many things happen in a year. So many emotions, so many thoughts, so many decisions.  How can I wrap it all neatly into a two-minute answer? I see now that I can’t. So I must sift through many of my experiences and pick out small episodes that may interest some people. Even my new roommate has heard practically nothing.

I’ve reconnected with the Baha’i community of Montréal … I can’t believe how many artists, GOOD artists, there are … I’m now trying to get some artistic projects going: such awesome opportunities! I’m also volunteering at the Shrine of Abdu’l-Baha once a month as a guide, where I get to learn more stories of Him, and get to tell them in turn … (and learn how to make Persian tea … mmmmm, Persian tea …)

I got to communicate with the next Youth Year of Service which will be picking up the projects where we left them in French Guiana. She sounds very competent, and is starting up a blog of her own (http://dugoutcanoe.wordpress.com). Apparently reading this helped her get an idea of how it can be over there. If that is the case, then this blog has served its purpose, and I’m happy about it.

And lastly, today, I just gave my first children’s class in North America. Ever. Who were the kids? … a bunch of jovial kids, many having just arrived from Haiti and Africa this summer (with one little Québecois girl).

And for a moment, while the kids were clibing all over me in the yard … I was transported back in French Guiana.

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If for some strange reason, someone wants to continue reading about my ramblings as I go on with life as a film music student, you can find my thoughts on my other blog, which I’ve also had for a while in French Guiana when I wrote of things that did not involve my experiences there: http://randomivity.wordpress.com

Mom Gets Chocolates – I Get Pangys and Calebashes

I remember, ever since I was a little kid, when my parents would come back from school at the end of the year with a few arms full of farewell gifts from their students. To my utter delight, there would be so much chocolate that they were obliged to share with the whole family. And a lot would have to be given away: we couldn’t exactly eat 30 boxes of chocolate before they went stale, and let’s just say it isn’t the healthiest thing to scarf down in the span of a week (a concept that I did not understand until my late teens).

Every so often, a student would get creative and give a nice candle, or a funny t-shirt, or a sweet trinket (like an apple out of granite). Those still sit visibly in the house, and they are the ones I remember mom and dad complimenting on their originality. Ever since then, I try to make gifts a little more creative – if possible, I make them myself (those of you who have been on the receiving end know that sometimes it works … and sometimes it doesn’t … ).

Fast-track to the present. I am now entering my last week as a teacher in St-Laurent du Maroni, French Guiana. The French lessons have been becoming more and more structured, and to my delight, some previously illiterate women can now read their ABC’s and can read syllables. That, in itself, is enough joy to bring home as a gift.

I entered my first end-of-year party, where I was to give each lady their diplomas, and we were to cook lunch together (all 16 of us). Due to an annoying bug, a few of us didn’t make it – I hauled myself out of bed long enough to go see them, as it was the last time I’d see most of these ladies before I leave. I actually sent Philip in my stead for the lesson part, and he was a hit: he played French bingo with them, taught them a few new things, revised a few things, and gave out the diplomas, while half the group was taking turns cooking.

When I finally got there after a few hours, I was greeted with something I was warned to expect as a teacher: gifts.

But no chocolates.

I got pangys and calebashes. Which are the two traditional things women make here. But a lot of them. They are, in a way, the chocolates you give to teachers back in North America. Can’t go wrong with them, but you’re guaranteed you won’t be the only one giving them. On the other hand, no two is alike, as it’s all done by hand. Which in itself is wonderful.

This is a pangy:

This is a calebash (half a gourd with handmade carving, the only carving women were traditionally allowed to do until recently – made to drink water, or to hold anything else you can think of … loose change, chalks for class … whatever you want):

And THIS … the “non-chocolate” item of the batch … is a hand-embroided hammock.

Oh yeah. How cool is that.

Now my only concern is, how many other groups are planning to do this, and how much overweight luggage costs on a plane …

Long story short, I might have to share and give away some of these “chocolates” with friends and family.

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On an unrelated note, Sarah, Philip, Caity and I drove to Kourou to visit the European Space Center and its launch pads (notably the Arianne 4 and Arianne 5). This included a swim in the ocean in the morning (yes, after 8 months, I FINALLY went to the sea shore).

But this particular beach is in the current of the Amazonian river, which discharges a hunk of a load of debris … mainly Amazonian mud.

So we swam in half-sea, half mud. (click for more)

You can see in the middle where the mud stops and the seawater starts. The mud was heavy enough that it stayed at the bottom and you could swim in reasonably clear water … but it was low tide, so you had to wad through a good chunk of mud to get in and out … which explains why we were the only ones swimming that morning.

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Back to my comment of women not carving anything but calebashes until recently. This is my youth group during the Wednesday afternoon, the Doekoe girls – or more like, these are the carvings they produced.

Hurrah for open-minded teachers!

Carving Classes Jr.

I know I keep raving about this specific group of youth and pre-youth. But I’ll do it again. Because they’re awesome.

Up until now, the Doekoes have done the following:

• Wrote a song (together, within the span of ten minutes)
• Recorded so-said song
• Presented the song at an event
• Made paintings of Baha’i principles (see flickr pictures, they’re not far in the past)
• And now … requested a traditional carving class.

Seeing I just finished carving my chess board, I was all into this idea – but I didn’t want to teach them myself, for a few good reasons. 1: I’m still a beginner myself, 2: I know practically nothing when it comes to shortcuts and tricks of the trade, and 3: I am not Saramacca. I know basically nothing about the traditional art that goes on the wood, except for the few things I’ve seen.

So we found another Baha’i man who, may I say, is beyond awesome. He’s willing to teach a) young adults and pre-youth, and b) girls. (Carving is not for women here, except funny French women who seem to get pleasure out of learning things from different cultures)(I seem to fall in that category).

And man, was everyone enchanted.

Chris came with chunks of wood, sand paper, and rulers; I came with knives, pencils, and compasses. He impressed on everyone how important it was to learn this art: the cultural traditions have been dying as of late, especially with the kids’ generation. He told them briefly all the things they could do once they understood the basics of Saramacca carving. It took about two minutes, and everyone was in awe of him. He, on the other hand, was thrilled to see it was the kids themselves that had requested this workshop.

He then gave a small piece of wood and a knife to everyone and said “Go nuts”. I was a little taken aback – I expected a lesson on how to hold a knife, how to do patterns – but no. The idea was that everyone does anything they could think up of sculpting for two hours straight to see what they’re able to do, what they can’t do yet, and to get comfortable with the knife

I made a cute small leaf. On my own. Without having anyone explaining to me how to do it. *glows with pride*

THEN he sat us all down and showed us patterns, which everyone diligently measured and copied on paper. Everyone loved it so much that we’ll be carving for 4 hours the two following lessons, which is when we’ll stick our drawings on the larger pieces of wood and will carve out all of it.

I now realise why the act of sculpting is growing on me. It’s great to have a big chunk of something, then prune, and prune, and prune again until it becomes something entirely different. (Maybe that’s why I loved chopping away my own hair, sometimes with … interesting … results. But I digress.)

I’ll make a point of bringing my camera next time while all the young’ens carve. So. Focused. It’s awesome.

Ke Gangadu

So – the new group with whom I’m staying on the weekends. This is them. The nutty uncle that attacks people with flour and juggles babies is the drummer with the light green shirt.

I also DO have a few new pictures. We have a fun fun clothing relay race game for the lesson on the Bab (er … for those of you who sort of know the history of the Faith, and wonder how in the world a clothing relay race ties into lessons on the history: the Bab worked as a cloth merchant with His uncle as a youth … hence the clothing relay race … it’s a stretch, but it works …!)

Also: there is this particular tree here that has pretty pink puffs as flowers.

Quite a few of them, actually.

Just look at the mess.

Seven Months and Monkey Meat

I look at the amount of times I have posted in December and January, then in May, and notice I have more than a 50% decrease of activity on my posting. But life down here is not less exciting than before. So, to counteract the possible impression of banality in French Guiana, let me tell you why things are still exciting.

First: I only have three weeks and a half left with all of my classes. This is especially pertinent with my French classes, as my main side project here was developing a French-Second-Language curriculum for illiterate students. This, I have been working on all year long, and I have just finally figured out how to grade my students and with which criteria. (Now to figure out how to evaluate them fairly within the next three weeks.) (Remember: I’m trained in music – not pedagogy.)

Second: I’ve managed to arrange carving lessons for my girl’s group (the one I keep raving about). We’re starting tomorrow. And yes, I did finish my chess board. It’s going to be heavy in my luggage. Darn.

Third: Speaking of board games. Monopoly with improvised cards, such as “teach your right-hand neighbour how to play your instrument for 10 minutes”, “show Sarah how to fold a paper crane”, “Yell Marco: the fastest person to reply Polo gets 5000$”, “Make lemonade for everyone” … well, you get the idea. Philip, Sarah and I amused ourselves yesterday evening. I also got spontaneously challenged to a game of “Quarto”, which a man promptly taught me how to play (sort of a mix of chess, tic-tac-toe, and bingo, all in one). I may need to make myself a board of that too.

Fourth: My schedule has had an upheaval during the weekends, and I no longer stay in the village of PK-10 overnight (though I haven’t cut any of the classes I do there). I now reside in a new area to work on a couple of specific projects. This family’s … well … here: What do you say when you see the 14-year old girl walk out with flour hand prints all over her face, saying “It was Amoni!” (her uncle), then her uncle walking out, half-covered in flour, saying, “It was Sébastienne!” (his niece), and then seeing a hoard of little kids covered in flour tromping out of the uncle’s house? … Fun times lookin’ up. (This is also the man who juggles babies while standing on a slack rope. I kid you not.)

Fifth: Seeing a wild boar getting hunted during a class in a remote village, then seeing it getting decapitated, de-haired, and prepared for cooking, alongside a couple of baboons … reminds me how sometimes I’m not exactly home. (Details of this adventure have been stacked in the “to-draw-as-cartoon” list, which I haven’t been working on recently.) (No worries. The baboon and wild boar one shall not be graphic.)

Sixth: … I forgot to celebrate the 7-month mark! It’s been 7 months! Yikes!

Seventh: Without going into any details, let’s just say that I’ve also had to rethink how I understand the Baha’i Faith, or more like how I fit into it. This isn’t something that’s entertaining for you to read about, like the baboon meat (no, I didn’t eat any, if you were wondering) or flour-fights, but it’s by far what’s been weighing most in my mind and heart. I guess that’s everyone’s struggle and search, in a way: where they fit in the world. (Ok, so some people don’t struggle with it at all, but you know what I mean.)

So that, in a rather large nutshell, is what’s been going on these days.

As my classes wrap up, and final projects get accomplished, I’m pretty sure I’ll have a substantial amount of fun stuff to post up here during these last two months. Well, hopefully, anyway. I feel like if I don’t leave with a bang on my year of service, that somewhere I’ve done something wrong.

So expect an upsurge of pictures and videos and whatnot.

“Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snooooowww …”

Caroline, one of my 11 year old students, spoke to me a little bit after our lesson tonight.

Caroline: So … there’s snow in Canada, right?

Me: Huh? Yeah, sure!

Caroline: About … how high?

Me (thinking of this year’s enormous downpour and wanting to be impressive): About … (pointing at my head) this high, this year.

Caroline: WHA? How can that be??

Me: It happens every year. Snow falls.

Caroline: But … but isn’t that dangerous?

Me: Nah. We can navigate easily enough. We shovel our walks, and there are big trucks with huge shovels that clean our streets once in a while.

Caroline: But … (then gestures a huge 6-feet-high piece of snow falling all in one chunk)

Me: What? Wait, no! Snow doesn’t fall in one big chunk! Ack! That would be terrible!!

Caroline: Then how DOES it fall??

Me (really giddy, because it’s just so cool to get to describe snow for someone who’s never experienced it – ever – not even on tv … ): It’s fluffy, light … Like, rain … but softer … Basically it’s rain, but it’s so cold outside that the raindrops freeze before they hit the ground.

Caroline: Wait! Rain just freezes? Before it hits the ground?? So how cold IS it, then?

Me: Pretty cold.

Caroline: Like, how would you dress?

Me: AH! Ummmm, ok. Other than underwear? Pants, socks, shirt – then, boots, sweatshirt, scarf (Caroline’s mother: “What’s a scarf?” Me: “A thing that keeps your nose from freezing but strangles you.”), coat, hat, mitts … on the coldest days, that is.

Caroline: Wow … so, um … do you ever think of coming back to French Guiana?

Me: Well, I’m pretty sure I’ll visit within the next five years.

Caroline: Can you do something for me then?

Me: Yeah?

Caroline: When you come back, can you bring me a jar of snow?

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Note to readers: Caroline was aware that the snow would have melted by the time I reached the country. In her defense, I was considering bringing back a small jar of rain forest rainwater myself a few months ago.

Six Months

John, a friend of mine who has traveled to a few countries and stayed in a village in China, has coined the following: “The Six Month Hump”.

He means that when you live in a new area (let alone a new country), it takes about six months for you to really start getting into the new culture and the new rhythm, and find your own space in it.

I’m inclined to agree.

This week was the first week that I brought out the fiddle to someone’s house without it being an event. Just – bring the fiddle to fiddle a bit after a children’s class. The whole family got into it. The father was laughing out loud, he found it so different and fun. But I wasn’t playing French-Canadian fiddle tunes like I would have done a few months ago. I was playing along a song in Sranan-Tongo.

This is what John meant by the six-month hump. I can now go in a house here, feel comfortable with their slightly different ways, and feel comfortable pulling out some of their tunes and get everyone going. Just as if I were at home playing a French-Canadian tune.

It was nice.

I plan to do it again.

Other things to celebrate my six-month hump:

• I’ve gotten more and more into cartooning. Coming soon: “Twi-no-go; the Life and Adventures of Twingo” (“Twingo” is the label of the little car we use – it gives us maaaaany little adventures …)
• I completely forgot to update this here, though I’ve emailed practically everyone I know: I was accepted in my Master’s program (some of you may recall that I had to write a project while was stranded in Paramaribo, Suriname, during my first week). To quote my post from November 8th: “… those six first days were definitely not lost to me. Definitely not.”
• I ate piranha again. And chicken claws.
• 19-day Feasts are becoming more and more prominent in the community. People are wanting to host them at their own house more and more.
• Some of you may also recall me mentioning that my dear, dear friend Sarah was to possibly join me here, work on a Public Health internship for three months, and go back home when I did too. Well, she’ll be stepping on South American soil in less than a week. Ex.Ci.Ted. (There’s just something about sharing such an experience with a close friend. Reliving the experience while sharing the memories with someone else keeps it alive.)

The Magic of Duct Tape

So this weekend I went to the village (PK-10), as usual, where my older kids (8-10 years old) are always a highlight for me. They’re incredibly noisy and all over the place, but without a trace of mean streak in them. So it always ends up being fun despite the craziness (this is one of the few boisterous groups that don’t have a violence problem). That, and they’re hilarious together.

One boy in particular is incredibly smart. Jorghinio, nine years old, lives in this completely impoverished area and dreams of becoming a doctor. I believe he can make it if he really wants to, because he’s so incredibly smart and good-natured, and I doubt the country won’t fund his university studies if he ever applies for scholarships when he gets to that point. Again, though, he’s nine – he’s got time to decide. But this kid is, without a doubt, gifted.

Back to the story. We were working on reading comprehension stuff in the carving hut (the only enclosed space with a decent table). No one was carving at that point, nor giving lessons, so we were free to use it. This weekend, as usual, these five kids were bouncing off the walls. They were just NOT quieting down. But, lo and behold … Jorghinio (who is usually the loudest) saw my big duct tape roll, which I had brought for kite-making afterwards, and piped up: “Hey! Can I have a long piece of tape? I’ll stick it on my mouth. I know that when I talk, I get everyone else talking. So if I shut myself up by taping my mouth, we may be able to finish the work!”

So I taped his mouth shut.

The four other kids then jumped up to me and said “Me too! Tape my mouth too!”

So I taped all of their mouths.

And they also wanted me to tape their hands together like handcuffs, to add a challenge to writing their answers. So I obliged. (The strangest things can spontaneously become a game.)

And so I began reading true or false questions, where they vigorously nodded or shook their heads to answer, and scribbled away “f”s and “v”s (faux & vrai) on their worksheets.

At that precise moment, one of the French sculpting students, a 50-ish year old strict-looking lady, walked in on me, looking for the sculpting teacher.

She basically froze in the door frame. Looking at me. With five kids with their mouths taped shut and their hands tied.

You can imagine how I tried to talk myself out of that one.

Thank God the kids looked like they were enjoying themselves.

Of Zen, Craftmanship, and Weekend Plans

I need to learn how to chill out. Seriously. I am, as a person, very nervous. Sometimes it blows out of proportion. I get scared for the smallest things, and I don’t realize the effect it has on my attitude, my self-esteem (and therefore my performance), and my sleep (and therefore health).

Sometimes stressful situations will roll off my back like water on a duck. Other times I’ll freeze out of fear. I still don’t know what makes me trigger, but it’s really getting on my nerves. I’m afraid that my nervousness and my fear comes through during some of my classes, and that maybe I end up destabilizing the kids. Isn’t the whole point of these classes for them to feel good about themselves and to have fun? Having a nervous and fearful teacher won’t give that effect. I need to zen-out.

That being said, I have another artistic outlet that I realized I haven’t explained yet.

I’m learning how to carve. Saramacca-style. They call that “Tembe”, which is interesting, as the word “tembe” is also used for any other craftsmanship, including hair-braiding. (Hair-braiding here is an art. Seriously.)

So for the past few months, I’ve been slowly designing a chess board with Saramacca designs on the edges. My teacher has been VERY patient with me. Wood-carving demands for precision and arm-strength. I’m definitely lacking the necessary arm-muscle, so it doesn’t take long for me to get tired! Therefore, I’ve been bringing my chess board home and working away at it little chunks at a time. I am now finished drawing and outlining everything with a thin cut. The next step that I’ll be taking today is sanding down the pencil marks, and then I start digging for real. (The 32 squares’ outlines have been dug out already.)

“In the Baha’i Cause arts, sciences and all crafts are counted as worship. The man who makes a piece of note paper to the best of his ability … is giving praise to God.” — ‘Abdu’l-Baha, The Divine Art of Living, p.65

This is something we’re discussing today with the older kids at PK-10.

Other items on this weekend’s menu:

• Kite-making
• Little celebration for the younger kids since they finished their “chapter” (which included putting a jewel on a crown every lesson – the crown is full, so they get to make themselves a crown – they’ve been looking forward to this …)
• Feast at the Doekoe’s house on Sunday night (“the Doekoes’” is the family with my adored five girls youth group – this is the first Feast they’ll be hosting in a long time, so in all, everyone’s excited)
• Sanding down my chess board
• Maybe getting my hair fully braided. We’ll see. Irène (friend at PK-10) has done a successful test last week.

100 Days and LSAs

I have a funny little gadget on my Facebook page that’s a day countdown. I added it in December just for laughs – it is now counting down how many days there are left before I go home. Apparently I’ve just hit the 100-day mark.

I realize I was supposed to post on Monday, but Monday became a crazy administrative day. I mean, crazy.

I shall back up and explain.

In the Baha’i Faith, there is no clergy. Administrative affairs are taken care by a body of 9 members elected in each community (ex., Montréal has a group of nine elected administrators, Ottawa has one too, etc.). This group is called the Local Spiritual Assembly, and it changes every year.

When we do the elections, we can’t do campaigns. What happens is that people vote for the 9 members they personally believe would be of the most help on the Assembly that year. This means it’s your job to go out and meet as many people in the community in general so as to have a good idea on whom to elect. Again. No campaigning. Everyone 21 years old and over is eligible. (So if you want this to feel a little closer to home, let me say that I’m eligible to be elected, and that a friend of mine of my age has just been elected on the Laval Spiritual Assembly.)

Every country then has a National Spiritual Assembly, which is elected by delegates from each region of the country. And then there’s the members of the Universal House of Justice, that are elected every 5 years, and who take care of the affairs of the Faith worldwide.

What does all of this have to do with my Monday being crazy?

There are a lot of little Baha’i communities in French Guiana around the town where I’m staying. These communities, most of them, don’t have access to mail easily, can’t come to town easily, and many are illiterate. So come election day (April 21st), they need help.

Now. Usually some people from our town go around to give them a hand for the day. But these wonderful people are getting ready to leave the country to Haifa for the election of the Universal House of Justice as I type, and so they were a little overwhelmed with travel preparation on Monday.

So it’s Philip and I that took the rickety old little car, a bunch of pencils, papers, ballots, money for food, and went around the Maroni region for about 10 hours assisting 10 different Local Spiritual Assembly elections (and in most cases, breaking ties) (we even needed tie-breaking sessions for some tie-breaking sessions a few times).

In all, a busy Monday. And I’ve been trying to catch up with my week’s class preparation ever since.